Image Source

wither

don’t bring me flowers
in my darkest hours
when you couldn’t be bothered
to share their blooms with me
in the light
don’t sing my praises or
stick gold stars on my life
when while i lived among you
you scrutinized
my exploits with red pen
just slashing away
with abandon
at every incidence
of my nonconformance
being insulted by
my noncompliance
all the time while steadily lying
about how it’s best to be yourself
you crucified me
for being me
and left me hanging
in the shadow of the sun
now you dare mourn me
in the public space
where i used to be vilified
i’m not your tragic hero
or a warning tale
to be spun and told
and thrice denied
i don’t need roses
when i can’t smell their scent
from this far underground

Sumayyah Talibah © 20 August 2018

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